Rhys Bowen - The Twelve Clues of Christmas

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Rhys Bowen - The Twelve Clues of Christmas» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию без сокращений). В некоторых случаях можно слушать аудио, скачать через торрент в формате fb2 и присутствует краткое содержание. Жанр: Старинная литература, на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале библиотеки ЛибКат.

The Twelve Clues of Christmas: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «The Twelve Clues of Christmas»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

She may be thirty-fifth in line for the throne, but Lady Georgiana Rannoch cannot wait to ring in the new year—before a Christmas killer wrings another neck…  On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me—well, actually, 
true love, Darcy O’Mara, is spending a 
 tramping around South America. Meanwhile, Mummy is holed up in a tiny village called Tiddleton-under-Lovey with that droll Noel Coward! And I’m snowed in at Castle Rannoch with my bumbling brother, Binky, and sourpuss sister-in-law, Fig. 
So it’s a miracle when I contrive to land a position as hostess to a posh holiday party in Tiddleton. The village is like something out of 
! But no sooner have I arrived than a neighborhood nuisance, a fellow named Freddie falls out of a tree, dead…. Dickensian, indeed.
Freddie’s merely a stocking stuffer. On my second day in town, another so-called accident turns up another mincemeat pie—and yet another on my third. The village is buzzing that a recent prison break could have something to do with it… that, or a long-standing witch’s curse. I’m not so sure. But after Darcy shows up beneath the mistletoe, anything could be possible in this wicked wonderland.  
Praise for  “
is yet another brilliant novel from Rhys Bowen.... Like all of Rhys’s books, this is so much more than a murder mystery. It’s part love story, part social commentary, part fun and part downright terrifying. And completely riveting. I adore this book and can hardly wait to give it to all my family and friends for Christmas! For all who love the season, and a great murder mystery, this book is perfect.” —Louise Penny, author of *The Beautiful Mystery
"Lady Georgiana's sixth outing...offers another witty and thoroughly enjoyable mystery with a dash of romance."— "Bowen's sixth whodunit featuring the irrepressible Lady Georgiana...may be her best yet...Bowen blends zany humor with fair-play detection as well as any author of traditional mysteries."—
(starred review)
Praise for the Royal Spyness Mysteries:
“Wonderful characters…A delight.”—Charlaine Harris, #1
 bestselling author of the Sookie Stackhouse Novels
“Hilarious adventure…What an absolute delight! With a witty and clever plot, it’s clear that Agatha Christie is alive and kicking and what’s more, she’s funny!” —Hannah Dennison, author of  “Georgie’s high spirits and the author’s frothy prose are utterly captivating.” — “Whimsical…Bowen successfully melds a whodunit with comedy as few contemporary writers can.”—
(starred review) 

The Twelve Clues of Christmas — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «The Twelve Clues of Christmas», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

“So the servants are getting their rooms ready, are they?” I asked. “That must mean they are arriving very soon.”

“It’s a pity you aren’t going away after all,” Queenie said. “I don’t see a very happy Christmas shaping for us.” With that she made a grand exit.

I got up and went over to the window. The world was covered in a blanket of white, apart from the black water of the loch, which lay mirror-still reflecting the crag and the pine trees. For once the scene looked almost like an Alpine picture postcard and I tried to cheer myself up by thinking of the fun I’d have building snowmen and going sledding with little Podge, my nephew. He was almost five years old now and splendid company.

When I came down to breakfast, however, I learned that Podge had developed a cold and was not to be allowed out in the snow. “But you can take Maude out tobogganing when she comes,” Fig added, as if that were an incentive. Maude probably wouldn’t want to do normal things like tobogganing, I thought. I’d never met a drearier child. Nor a worse know-it-all. I looked up as Hamilton came in with the morning post on a salver.

“Anything for me, Hamilton?” I asked hopefully. If Darcy was back in London, surely he would have written. . . .

“I’m afraid not, my lady. Only a letter for His Grace and some magazines.”

Magazines were better than nothing, I supposed. I took Country Life and The Lady and went to curl up in an armchair by the fire in the morning room, which was the only room in the house that became passably warm. I flicked through the pages, trying not to feel anxious and depressed. Every page seemed to show pictures of jolly Christmas house parties, hints on how to decorate with holly and mistletoe, amusing cocktails for New Year’s bashes. . . . I put down Country Life and thumbed idly through The Lady . I was about to put it down when some words leaped off the page at me: Tiddleton-under-Lovey .

It was an entry in the advertisements column. Wanted: young woman of impeccable background to assist hostess with the social duties of large Christmas house party. Applications to Lady Hawse-Gorzley, Gorzley Hall, Tiddleton-under-Lovey, Devonshire.

I stared at it as if mesmerized. What an astounding coincidence. Here was a place I had never heard of before and now it had come up for the second time in two days. That ought to be a sign from heaven, surely. As if I were destined to go there. My breath was coming in rapid gulps. I could escape from Fig and be paid for it. It really did seem too good to be true, an answer to a prayer. I was about to rush to the writing desk and send in my application when I felt a warning siren going off in my head. Maybe it was too good to be true. I had come up with brilliant ways to make money before and they had all turned into disasters. I couldn’t face a repetition of the escort service fiasco, and I had never heard of Lady Hawse-Gorzley.

I went back into the breakfast room, where Fig and her mother were working their way through the Tatler , making catty remarks about the society pictures.

“Does either of you know anyone called Hawse-Gorzley?” I asked.

They looked up, frowning. “Name sounds familiar,” Fig said.

“Sir Oswald, I believe,” Lady Wormwood said. “Only a baronet. West Country people, aren’t they? Why, what have they done?”

“Nothing. I read the name in The Lady and I’d never heard of them. Just curious, that’s all. Interesting name, don’t you think?” I wandered out of the room again, trying not to let my excitement show. They were legit. Lady Wormwood had heard of them. West Country people. Now I just hoped that I wasn’t too late. Heaven knew how long our copy of The Lady had taken to reach us up in the wilds of Scotland. There were probably hundreds of applications from suitable young women winging their way to Gorzley Hall at this very moment. I decided I needed to act fast. I was about to make a dash to the telephone when I decided that wouldn’t be the right thing to do at all. It might fluster and embarrass her. The correct method would be to write to her on Castle Rannoch writing paper, crest and all, but it would be too slow. Drat and bother. Suddenly I brightened up. I could send her a telegram. I’d learned about the effectiveness of telegrams when I was in France, and all the best people sent them.

“I’m going into the village,” I said, popping my head around the breakfast room door. “Does anyone want anything?”

Fig peered at me over the Tatler . “How do you propose going to the village in this weather? You’re certainly not taking the motor and I don’t want MacTavish to have to drive you.”

“I suppose I could ride,” I said.

“I thought you said it would be criminal to take your horse out in this weather,” Lady Wormwood said with the smirk of someone who is scoring a point.

“I could walk if necessary. It’s only two miles.”

“Through snowdrifts? Dear me, it must be urgent.”

“It’s probably a letter to that Darcy person,” Fig commented. “Am I right?”

“Not at all,” I said. “If I can’t have the car I’d better start walking.”

“Dashed slippery out there. Who is going out walking?” Binky asked, appearing in the doorway.

“I am,” I said. “I have to go to the village and I’ve no other way of getting there.”

“I’m going in myself later,” Binky said. “If you don’t mind sticking around a bit, you can ride in with me.”

Fig glared at him as if he had let the side down by actually wanting to help me, but it was his car, after all.

“Thank you, Binky.” I beamed at him. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

I went upstairs and worked at composing my telegram. Would it make me seem too eager and pushy? I wondered. But then other girls in more southerly climes would have had a couple of days’ head start on me, and Christmas was rapidly approaching. I had to take the risk. I scribbled, crossed out, scribbled again and ended up with:

COPY OF THE LADY JUST REACHED ME. HOPE I’M NOT TOO LATE TO APPLY FOR POSITION. SENDING MY PARTICULARS BY POST. GEORGIANA RANNOCH.

Of course anyone who sends telegrams on a regular basis would know that this amount of verbiage would cost me a fortune. I blanched when Mrs. McDonald at the post office-cum-general store told me the amount, but Binky was hovering and my pride would not let me take it back for rewriting. Besides, I didn’t actually know what I could have left out. So I handed over the money, hoping that it would result in a paid position shortly. I realized there had been no mention of money in the advertisement. Perhaps the only recompense was to be the joys of a big house party. Ah, well, no matter. Anything would be better than a house full of Fig’s relatives.

I waited all that day and all the next, sinking further and further into gloom. I was too late. Some other young woman of impeccable background would be enjoying the delights of that big house party while I ate baked beans on toast and dodged Foggy’s grabbing hands. Then the next morning a miracle happened. Hamilton appeared with the post while we were at breakfast.

Fig took it. “Oh, something for you, Georgiana,” she said. “Who do you know in Devon?”

I snatched the letter and went out of the room to read it. “It will be a rejection,” I kept muttering as I opened the envelope. Instead I read:

My dear Lady Georgiana:

I was overwhelmed to receive your telegram. I had no idea that someone of your rank and status would ever consider gracing our small house party in the Devon countryside. We would be more than honored for you to join us. As mentioned in my advertisement, your duties would only be those of a young hostess, making sure that the younger guests have a good time. Could you be here by the twentieth and stay until after the New Year?

Читать дальше
Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «The Twelve Clues of Christmas»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «The Twelve Clues of Christmas» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё непрочитанные произведения.


Отзывы о книге «The Twelve Clues of Christmas»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «The Twelve Clues of Christmas» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.

x